Bitter Sweet Release
by JTHM's Girlfriend
Summary: Harry takes Sirius' death horribly, that coupled up with abuse, selfmutilation, and the betrayal of his friends lead him to some drastic and suicidal choices. Can anybody save him?


Umm, self-mutilation at the beginning, as well as abuse and suicide, don't like, well, that's your problem, not mine. Read a different story.

)(&$#!

Harry sat in his room, blinds and drapes closed tight, lights off, music playing loudly, and his back burning as if it were on fire where his uncle's belt had cut him and left ugly red welts. He stared at the pocket knife in his hand and slowly dragged it across his upper arm. Both of his arms were covered in the small cuts he made daily. He gasped at the sudden pain that relived him of the pain of Sirius, the Tri-Wizard Tournament, his abuse, his life. The dark red blood dripped down his arm and onto the carpet, he made several more cuts before stopping. He then closed the blade, stood, put it away and pulled his sleeve down before going to start on the daily chores his "family" made him do.

When he finished sweeping and mopping the floors, pulling weeds, watering the garden, dusting, the dishes, vacuuming, washing the windows, and picking up the various different items that were scattered about by the Dursley's it was nearing five o'clock and he hadn't eaten all day. He shuffled into the kitchen and made himself a small dinner and when done went upstairs and pulled out his knife while turning on one of his favorite band's CD. He flipped out the blade and began to once again drag it across his arm, and found the only release from his pain, the cold bite of a blade, once more. He sat there as the numbness the pain brought wore off. When the pain faded almost completely his uncle came home. He heard him clomp slowly up the stairs and began to pray he kept going and went to his own room.

His luck once again failed him and his door slammed open, and he could tell it would be bad. The man looked pissed, not just that, but really stressed out. And he was his uncle's favorite way to get rid of the stress of his job. Then, without prelude his uncle took of the belt he was wearing and walked over to him and bodily pushed him to the ground. He then kicked him in the stomach and he convulsed so he was curled up on his side. He then felt a foot slam into his back and found himself spread-eagle on the floor facing down. Vernon then proceeded to bring the belt down on him again and again. When he finally stopped he was almost unconscious due to the searing pain in his back.

)(&$#!

A week later with only a slice of white bread and a glass of water a day and continually worse and worse daily beating from Vernon he wanted to die. He really did, it wasn't as if anybody else was cutting him some slack, he got nightmare from Voldemort every time he passed out from the combination of blood loss, pain and starvation. Plus nobody from Hogwarts, friends or members of the DA, had written him in the past month of break, not a single letter had come for him.

He then felt something poke him in his leg. His pocket knife. He pulled it of and flipped the blade open. He stared at it and it reflected the sunlight that came in through the crack in his drapes and fell across him. He then held up his left arm and pulled his sleeve up to his elbow. He slowly and deliberately brought the blade to his wrist and pulled it slowly down the length of his forearm till the cut reached his elbow. He then dropped his knife to the floor and watched as a puddle of blood stained his carpet and soaked his clothes.

Outside the sun shone brightly and birds sang as parents watched as children swam in pools and ran around. All of this seemed dead to the broken and battered shell of a body that housed the tormented and now dying soul of the fallen hero, the tarnished Golden Boy, the last hope of the wizarding and muggle worlds alike. His blood poured out of him as his eyelids slowly drifted shut, for the last and final time. The spark the glowed within him grew dimmer and dimmer before it started to flicker, and then completely went black, never to stir again.

)(&$#!

Sorry about the more than slightly angsty ending, but no, this is NOT a one-shot! I am planning on taking this story on a long journey! Don't give up on it for me, and for our ?dead? Hero! I might find some way to bring him back. Maybe in a couple of years or something… the prophecy keeps him from dying from suicide since Moldie Voldie hasn't kicked the bucket as of yet. Tell me what you want in a review.


End file.
